


What Would(n't) Riggins Do?

by Devilc



Category: Friday Night Lights
Genre: Crack, Crossdressing, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-10
Updated: 2010-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-06 03:13:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devilc/pseuds/Devilc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim does a little roleplaying. Warning: Crack!Fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Would(n't) Riggins Do?

**Author's Note:**

> This bit of pure, hopefully gloriously wrong **CRACK!FIC** was written in response to FNL Rally Girls prompt #1: Roleplay.
> 
> (It helps if you've seen 2x01 and 2x02).

"I hear you've got your own rally girl now." Tim laughed as he set his books and notepad down on the table across from Landry. He slid a copy of _Beowulf_ over. "So, what can we do about this? English Lit is going to kick my ass."

Landry looked at him and said, "What's in it for me?" mostly just to see what would happen.

Tim looked at him for a long moment and said, "I'll go easier on you in practice." They both knew that Tim took a perverse kind of joy in knocking him on his ass every chance he got.

Landry rolled his eyes. "Now why would you do that? McGregor's on to you like white on rice -- what, are you gunning for a gold star next to your name on his shitlist?"

Tim smiled at that.

"Besides," Landry continued, "if I'm going to be any good as a linebacker, I've got to learn to tackle the best, right?"

"The best?"

Landry couldn't quite parse Tim's tone. "You are the Mack truck of the Panthers' offense," he said. Pause. "Tell you what, Tim. I want a first-string rally girl." (The rally girl who had come up to him actually turned out to be a very nice person, but she totally wasn't the kind of girl a starter got.)

Actually, Landry didn't particularly want a rally girl. He just wanted to see how serious Tim was about keeping things on a two way street.

Tim gave him a funny look and said, "You already got Tyra. What do you need a rally girl for?"

"You had Tyra. What did _you_ need rally girls for?"

Tim actually had the grace to blush. "Tyra and me," he said slowly, dragging the words out, "we ... it's different."

Yeah, Landry already knew that. And, Tim had never given him any grief about Tyra. In fact he hadn't said anything to him at all about Tyra except that she hated the smell of Axe, because it smells like Raid, so don't ever wear that.

And then the light bulb went on above Tim's head. The change in his expression from empty headed, winds blowing the tumbleweeds across the lone and level sands, to _Eureka! I've found it!_ was so sudden and complete that Landry burst out laughing.

Tim, however, was not so amused and shot Landry a look that was equal measures WTF?! and Fuck You.

Which only made it funnier.

But then, the light bulb turned from a 40 watter to a hundred thousand candlepower blacklight (if such a thing existed) and an evil smirk snaked its way across Tim's face. "One first string rally girl, and you'll read and explain _Beowulf_ to me. It's a deal." He stood up and sauntered away from the table.

Landry wondered if he really wanted to know the answer to WWRD?, sighed, and opened his AP Calculus book.

~oo(0)oo~

He discovered the answer shortly before midnight when Tim rapped on his window and told him to open up.

Landry nearly fell over backwards as soon as he pulled the blinds.

Because Tim had his hair in pigtails and he'd borrowed somebody's skirt, stockings, and tubetop. His beat up cowboy boots clashed horribly with it all, but it wasn't like they made women's shoes that big.

"Let me in, Landry," he growled when Landry finally got the window open. "It's ... drafty out here." He climbed in, put his hands on his hips and said, "Well, what do you think?"

Speechless, Landry looked him up and down several times before he finally blurted, "Tim, you've got lipgloss on!" He did, too. It was pink and faintly sparkly.

"Well, duh!" Tim said an an exaggerated, pouty way, as he tried to twirl one of his pigtails around his finger, only his hand was way too big, or his hair was too short, or both. "Well?!" He demanded again, hip thrust forward, as he _batted_ his thick, sooty lashes.

"Tim ... what the fuck?"

Tim gave him a direct look. "Well, I am first string, and I like to think I was doing a pretty good rally girl impression."

"Where's my chocolate coconut cake baked with real butter?" Landry asked. "Because that's what Matt's offered him."

"Oh _really_? Is that_ all?_" Tim sneered throatily as he closed the gap between them, then whispered, low and breathy, in Landry's ear, "Did she offer to suck his brains out through his dick?"

Landry staggered back as his blood rushed south. "Tim -- you --"

Tim's eyes smoldered in a way that had nothing to do with his eye makeup. He was ... this was ... _Oh My God_.

Reaching out, Tim pushed gently at Landry's shoulder, sending him in the general direction of the bed. "I guess I'm just going to show you how rally girls handle the shy ones, Lando." For a split second, Landry thought he saw _flower decals_ on Tim's nails.

"Tim!" Landry hissed, urgent.

"What?" Tim, the real Tim was back.

"Are you _high_?"

"Hell no." Tim blinked and then the freaky Tim came back. "Are you a _coward_, Landry?" he husked.

Landry's mouth opened and shut several times before he squeaked, "No."

"Because," Tim's voice took on a sing-song cadence, "it seems to me you asked for a first string rally girl, and now that I'm here, you're too chicken-shit to take delivery." His voice dropped an octave into pure menace. "You're trying to welsh on our deal, Landry, and I don't like that."

"N-no. I woul-wouldn't do that, Tim." Landry wondered if this is what it felt like to go insane.

"Good." Tim smiled sweetly and darted in to kiss Landry before pushing him on to the bed and straddling him.

Part of Landry's brain screamed at him that they had to stop this right now.

The other part of Landry's brain hoped Tim was wearing a pink thong.

"I am discovering kinks I didn't even know I had, " he mumbled to no one in particular as Tim started -- _Jesus! Just like that!_ \-- necking him.

"Me too," Tim paused just long enough to speak and then went back to doing the most incredible things with his lips and tongue on Landry's throat, hitting all these little places that made Landry groan and shiver.

"Gonna give you _such_ a hickey," Tim rasped in Landry's ear as he ground up against him.

"Oh God, please don't!" Landry gasped, stricken. "Tyra will --"

"Oops, too late!" Tim said with a cat that got the cream smile. "Tell her your new rally girl gave it to you."

_Yeah, 'cause that's going to go over real well,_ Landry thought.

Tim shrugged. "She understands how it is. She's totally not the jealous type."

_It's not like that with me and her,_ Landry wanted to say, but then Tim reached a hand down there and Landry blurted, "Oh GOD, yes!" as his hips bucked all on their own.

"A hard man's good to find," Tim cooed.

Landry swallowed hard. "Tim, can I please ask a small favor?" he said as calmly as he could given the circumstances.

"Sure Lando, anything." Tim pronounced all three syllables of the last word.

"Can you please not say things like that? Keep it up, and it's going to give me a hard-off."

Tim smiled coyly down as he shimmied his hips against Landry. (OhGod, that was a hard cock underneath those pleats.) "Oh, I get it," he simpered. "You're trying to tell me that there are better things for me to be doing with my mouth than talking."

Landry vowed right then and there that if first string rally girls really were this annoying, he wanted nothing to do with them once the night was over.

Meanwhile, Tim had scooted down and Landry could feel his breath, hot and humid, through the thin cotton of his boxers. Tim pursed his lips and blew a few more times, making Landry's dick twitch and spurt pre-come, and for some reason, the sight of seeing Landry's dick jerking all by itself seemed to amuse Tim to no end.

Tim reached up and slowly, languidly, ran his index finger along the length of Landry's cock, making Landry jitter and gasp. "This never gets old," Tim said in a velvety tone, and Landry didn't even bother to suppress his groan. Tim grew bolder, cupping his hand over Landry. When he looked up there was something almost wondering in his gaze. "You know, I can feel your pulse, Lando."

Before he could think of something to say, Tim snaked his hand in and deftly freed Landry's aching cock. Landry felt as much as heard the breath hissing out of his mouth as Tim's hot, wet tongue licked along the vein that ran the length of his shaft. A full fledged moan came forth when Tim flicked his tongue, snake-fast, over the head several times.

"Mmm ... tasty," Tim said in a sort of voice that was just _wrong_ and Landry decided to shut him up the most expedient way possible. He pushed gently at Tim's head. "Okay, okay," Tim murmured and then his lips wrapped around Landry.

It was ... as sacrilegious, as blasphemous as the thought was, all Landry could think was that Heaven must feel something like this.

He wanted to shout and whoop and sing with joy over all the wonderful, _magical_ things that Tim did to him with his wicked tongue and his slick, sucking mouth, wanted to take those ridiculous pigtails in hand and just fuck Tim's mouth until he came. He was so close now, and Tim was making these throaty little noises, like _he_ was also getting something out it, which just ... pushed Landry even closer. He bit down on the edge of his hand because -- _OhJesusTimJustLikeThat!_ \-- if he woke his parents up .... And he tried -- _SweetJesus!_ \-- not to buck his hips up, but he couldn't completely stop them from spasming and then he had just enough time to latch on to one of those pigtails and yank as he gasped, "Tim!" because he was _coming_ and ....

The third spurt soaking his boxers finally woke him the rest of the way up.

As he wiped himself clean and slipped into a fresh pair of boxers, Landry tried to decide what was more disturbing: that his subconscious had actually come up with this whole scenario, or if it had actually happened in real life.

Either way, there was no way he would be able to look Tim in the eye at practice tomorrow. Not without laughing ... or throwing a boner.


End file.
